CHAPTER XVI.
DIVORCE
During the remainder of the winter, the Du Roys often visited theWalters. Georges, too, frequently dined there alone, Madeleine pleadingfatigue and preferring to remain at home. He had chosen Friday as hisday, and Mme. Walter never invited anyone else on that evening; itbelonged to Bel-Ami. Often in a dark corner or behind a tree in theconservatory, Mme. Walter embraced the young man and whispered in hisear: "I love you, I love you! I love you desperately!"
But he always repulsed her coldly, saying: "If you persist in that, Iwill not come again."
Toward the end of March people talked of the marriage of the twosisters: Rose was to marry, Dame Rumor said, Count de Latour-Ivelin andSuzanne, the Marquis de Cazolles. The subject of Suzanne's possiblemarriage had not been broached again between her and Georges until onemorning, the latter having been brought home by M. Walter to lunch, hewhispered to Suzanne: "Come, let us give the fish some bread."
They proceeded to the conservatory in which was the marble basincontaining the fish. As Georges and Suzanne leaned over its edge, theysaw their reflections in the water and smiled at them. Suddenly, hesaid in a low voice: "It is not right of you to keep secrets from me,Suzanne."
She asked:
"What secrets, Bel-Ami?"
"Do you remember what you promised me here the night of the fete?"
"No."
"To consult me every time you received a proposal."
"Well?"
"Well, you have received one!"
"From whom?"
"You know very well."
"No, I swear I do not."
"Yes, you do. It is from that fop of a Marquis de Cazolles."
"He is not a fop."
"That may be, but he is stupid. He is no match for you who are sopretty, so fresh, so bright!"
She asked with a smile: "What have you against him?"
"I? Nothing!"
"Yes, you have. He is not all that you say he is."
"He is a fool, and an intriguer."
She glanced at him: "What ails you?"
He spoke as if tearing a secret from the depths of his heart: "I am--Iam jealous of him."
She was astonished.
"You?"
"Yes, I."
"Why?"
"Because I love you and you know it"
Then she said severely: "You are mad, Bel-Ami!"
He replied: "I know that I am! Should I confess it--I, a married man,to you, a young girl? I am worse than mad--I am culpable, wretched--Ihave no possible hope, and that thought almost destroys my reason. WhenI hear that you are going to be married, I feel murder in my heart. Youmust forgive me, Suzanne."
He paused. The young girl murmured half sadly, half gaily: "It is apity that you are married; but what can you do? It cannot be helped."
He turned toward her abruptly and said: "If I were free would you marryme?"
She replied: "Yes, Bel-Ami, I would marry you because I love you betterthan any of the others."
He rose and stammering: "Thanks--thanks--do not, I implore you, say yesto anyone. Wait a while. Promise me."
Somewhat confused, and without comprehending what he asked, shewhispered: "I promise."
Du Roy threw a large piece of bread into the water and fled, withoutsaying adieu, as if he were beside himself. Suzanne, in surprise,returned to the salon.
When Du Roy arrived home, he asked Madeleine, who was writing letters:"Shall you dine at the Walters' Friday? I am going."
She hesitated: "No, I am not well. I prefer to remain here."
"As you like. No one will force you." Then he took up his hat and wentout.
For some time he had watched and followed her, knowing all her actions.The time he had awaited had come at length.
On Friday he dressed early, in order, as he said, to make several callsbefore going to M. Walter's. At about six o'clock, after having kissedhis wife, he went in search of a cab. He said to the cabman: "You canstop at No. 17 Rue Fontaine, and remain there until I order you to goon. Then you can take me to the restaurant Du Coq-Faisan, RueLafayette."
The cab rolled slowly on; Du Roy lowered the shades. When in front ofhis house, he kept watch of it. After waiting ten minutes, he sawMadeleine come out and go toward the boulevards. When she was out ofearshot, he put his head out of the window and cried: "Go on!"
The cab proceeded on its way and stopped at the Coq-Faisan. Georgesentered the dining-room and ate slowly, looking at his watch from timeto time. At seven-thirty he left and drove to Rue La Rochefoucauld. Hemounted to the third story of a house in that street, and asked themaid who opened the door: "Is M. Guibert de Lorme at home?"
"Yes, sir."
He was shown into the drawing-room, and after waiting some time, a tallman with a military bearing and gray hair entered. He was the policecommissioner.
Du Roy bowed, then said: "As I suspected, my wife is with her lover infurnished apartments they have rented on Rue des Martyrs."
The magistrate bowed: "I am at your service, sir."
"Very well, I have a cab below." And with three other officers theyproceeded to the house in which Du Roy expected to surprise his wife.One officer remained at the door to watch the exit; on the second floorthey halted; Du Roy rang the bell and they waited. In two or threeminutes Georges rang again several times in succession. They heard alight step approach, and a woman's voice, evidently disguised, asked:
"Who is there?"
The police officer replied: "Open in the name of the law."
The voice repeated: "Who are you?"
"I am the police commissioner. Open, or I will force the door."
The voice continued: "What do you want?"
Du Roy interrupted: "It is I; it is useless to try to escape us."
The footsteps receded and then returned. Georges said: "If you do notopen, we will force the door."
Receiving no reply he shook the door so violently that the old lockgave way, and the young man almost fell over Madeleine, who wasstanding in the antechamber in her petticoat, her hair loosened, herfeet bare, and a candle in her hand.
He exclaimed: "It is she. We have caught them," and he rushed into theroom. The commissioner turned to Madeleine, who had followed themthrough the rooms, in one of which were the remnants of a supper, andlooking into her eyes said:
"You are Mme. Claire Madeleine du Roy, lawful wife of M. ProsperGeorges du Roy, here present?"
She replied: "Yes, sir."
"What are you doing here?"
She made no reply. The officer repeated his question; still she did notreply. He waited several moments and then said: "If you do not confess,Madame, I shall be forced to inquire into the matter."
They could see a man's form concealed beneath the covers of the bed. DuRoy advanced softly and uncovered the livid face of M. Laroche-Mathieu.
The officer again asked: "Who are you?"
As the man did not reply, he continued: "I am the police commissionerand I call upon you to tell me your name. If you do not answer, I shallbe forced to arrest you. In any case, rise. I will interrogate you whenyou are dressed."
In the meantime Madeleine had regained her composure, and seeing thatall was lost, she was determined to put a brave face upon the matter.Her eyes sparkled with the audacity of bravado, and taking a piece ofpaper she lighted the ten candles in the candelabra as if for areception. That done, she leaned against the mantelpiece, took acigarette out of a case, and began to smoke, seeming not to see herhusband.
In the meantime the man in the bed had dressed himself and advanced.The officer turned to him: "Now, sir, will you tell me who you are?"
He made no reply.
"I see I shall have to arrest you."
Then the man cried: "Do not touch me. I am inviolable."
Du Roy rushed toward him exclaiming: "I can have you arrested if I wantto!" Then he added: "This man's name is Laroche-Mathieu, minister offoreign affairs."
The officer retreated and stammered: "Sir, w
ill you tell me who youare?"
"For once that miserable fellow has not lied. I am indeedLaroche-Mathieu, minister," and pointing to Georges' breast, he added,"and that scoundrel wears upon his coat the cross of honor which I gavehim."
Du Roy turned pale. With a rapid gesture he tore the decoration fromhis buttonhole and throwing it in the fire exclaimed: "That is what adecoration is worth which is given by a scoundrel of your order."
The commissioner stepped between them, as they stood face to face,saying: "Gentlemen, you forget yourselves and your dignity."
Madeleine smoked on calmly, a smile hovering about her lips. Theofficer continued: "Sir, I have surprised you alone with Mme. du Royunder suspicious circumstances; what have you to say?"
"Nothing; do your duty."
The commissioner turned to Madeleine: "Do you confess, Madame, thatthis gentleman is your lover?"
She replied boldly: "I do not deny it. That is sufficient."
The magistrate made several notes; when he had finished writing, theminister, who stood ready, coat upon arm, hat in hand, asked: "Do youneed me any longer, sir? Can I go?"
Du Roy addressed him with an insolent smile: "Why should you go, wehave finished; we will leave you alone together." Then, taking theofficer's arm, he said: "Let us go, sir; we have nothing more to do inthis place."
An hour later Georges du Roy entered the office of "La Vie Francaise."M. Walter was there; he raised his head and asked: "What, are you here?Why are you not dining at my house? Where have you come from?"
Georges replied with emphasis: "I have just found out something aboutthe minister of foreign affairs."
"What?"
"I found him alone with my wife in hired apartments. The commissionerof police was my witness. The minister is ruined."
"Are you not jesting?"
"No, I am not. I shall even write an article on it."
"What is your object?"
"To overthrow that wretch, that public malefactor."
Georges placed his hat upon a chair and added: "Woe to those whom Ifind in my path. I never pardon."
The manager stammered: "But your wife?"
"I shall apply for a divorce at once."
"A divorce?"
"Yes, I am master of the situation. I shall be free. I have a statedincome. I shall offer myself as a candidate in October in my nativedistrict, where I am known. I could not win any respect were I to behampered with a wife whose honor was sullied. She took me for asimpleton, but since I have known her game, I have watched her, and nowI shall get on, for I shall be free."
Georges rose.
"I will write the item; it must be handled prudently."
The old man hesitated, then said: "Do so: it serves those right who arecaught in such scrapes."
Bel Ami; Or, The History of a Scoundrel: A Novel Page 16
